Party of Three: A H.O.T. Cops Novel (4 page)

But at heart, mostly, he just wanted to make her happy—wanted to make them
both
happy. And he’d already asked himself most of these questions along the way and had ended up deciding they didn’t matter, that the answers all fell in line with pleasing her, pleasuring her to the fullest, and sealing their relationship in a whole new way.

Just as he tied up a garbage bag and started walking it toward the trash cans behind the cabin, he heard a car engine in the distance, getting nearer.

Rogan was here.

And when he glanced down to the dock and Mira turned to meet his gaze, he knew she’d heard it, too.

O
h God, he was here. Already.

Part of Mira wanted to run and hide. Part of her wanted to rip Ethan to shreds for his “present,” because what she’d thought would be a totally relaxed yet sex-filled weekend with her man had turned into something … far from relaxed. They’d had a plan, after all. A simple weekend getaway to a cabin followed by a big family birthday dinner at her sister’s house on Sunday night after they drove home. And now … well, Sunday night sounded light years away.

But get hold of yourself. Do you want this or not?

The real answer: She wasn’t sure.

She
wanted
to want it, for Ethan. And maybe even for herself. But as Mira took one last look out over the vast waters before pushing to her feet, she couldn’t quite wade through all her feelings. Her
body
wanted this. There was just no denying that. Her pussy had practically pulsed for the last half hour, and her breasts had become heavy, sensitive. Her whole body felt downright needy.

But again, dreaming it was one thing—doing it another.

And there were things Ethan didn’t know.

The truth was, if she desired any other man on the planet besides Ethan, it was Rogan. Still.

Sometimes the old, familiar longing stretched up her inner thighs when she watched him on the softball field, grimy and sweating, the muscles in his arms flexing as he stepped up to bat. Sometimes the sight of him, or the mere sound of his deep voice, reminded her how it felt to have his hard cock pounding into her, making her cry out at every rough stroke.

And of course she’d never told Ethan any of that—because why would she? It meant nothing—it was merely human sexual response—and information like that would only hurt him. Or she’d thought that before today anyway. Now it was getting confusing.

Locking gazes with Ethan once more as the sound of Rogan’s car drew closer, she suffered the inexplicable urge to rush up the stone steps that led from the dock, to have at least one more minute alone with Ethan before they became a party of three. She wasn’t even sure why, but she felt herself moving, leaving the sun for the shade of the trees that dotted the hilly slope, hurrying toward him as if something vital were at stake. Up until now, she’d been basking in the natural beauty of the cabin and its surroundings—the lush greenery of tall trees, the wildflowers that lined the vacation home’s foundation and edged the yard—but now she could see nothing but the man she walked toward so briskly.

He’d stopped in place, still holding the plastic bag of garbage he’d been about to tote around the house, but when she reached him, pressing her palms to his chest, he let it drop to the ground. “What is it?” he asked softly, clearly seeing her duress.

“What if … what if it starts and I … just can’t? What if it feels wrong?” She hadn’t quite known she was going to ask that, but this had all happened so quickly, and it seemed like something they should address. She wished there’d been more time between his telling her and Rogan’s arrival.

But he simply shook his handsome head. “No worries. You just say so. At any time. Whether it’s in the first five minutes or right in the middle of things, doesn’t matter. If anything feels wrong, you just let us know.”

Us.
Him and Rogan. The two men planning to fuck her together. She let out a sigh, still trying to wrap her brain around this.

Then she asked him, her voice going a bit lower, “Are you sure? Really sure?”

Maybe
that
was what had sent her flying up the steps toward him. One last chance to make certain he thought this was the right thing to do, certain he believed this wouldn’t hurt them or their relationship in any way.

His hands closed warmly over her upper arms as he looked into her eyes. “Completely,” he promised. Then said, “Are you?”

She told the truth, the only truth she knew right now. “I don’t know. I … I want to be, but I’m a little afraid.”

“That’s okay,” he replied. “We’ll just see how things go, play it by ear. Rogan knows nothing is set in stone—he knows I’m surprising you with this. So we’ll just take our time, see how you feel as the night goes on.”

Oh. Well. Okay. Suddenly, the whole situation didn’t sound …
quite
as daunting as before. Still a little nerve-wracking, but … she could still back out. She didn’t have to make a decision right this minute. And just knowing that calmed the frantic beating of her heart. A little anyway.

She stood up a bit straighter when she heard the car door slam.

And as Rogan rounded the corner of the house a moment later, a small duffel bag dangling from one hand and a bakery box in the other, her whole body tensed once more. She’d seen him less than a week ago at Ethan’s last softball game, but everything was different now. Everything.

As he approached, she took in the jet-black hair she’d once loved to run her hands through, the dark, unshaven stubble on his strong jaw, the barbed wire tattoo that circled one muscular arm.

“Hey,” he said. Just that. And the one word made her pussy spasm against her blue jeans. For the past four years, he’d been … a distant friend, someone she might chat with casually at the ball field on occasion—even if she did sometimes suffer a sexual response to him. But now, suddenly, he was more. He was … someone she was
allowed
to be attracted to again, someone Ethan
wanted
her to lust for.

“Hey,” she returned, but getting it out was more difficult than it should have been—as something swelled in her throat.

“Dude,” Ethan offered easily, and Rogan gave him a nod.

And Mira decided that it seemed important to say something more, anything at all, before things had a chance to feel awkward—
he’s here for sex, we all know he’s here for sex, and we’re just standing around acting like that’s normal
—so she managed a smile and said, “What’s in the box?”

“Ethan called before I hit the road—said the one thing he forgot was a birthday cake. So I picked one up.”

She spared a quick glance at her boyfriend, who gave a light shrug—she supposed he’d had a lot to organize here and most of it had taken priority over cake. Then she stepped up and took the box from Rogan, her fingers brushing against his as she did, and the mere touch skittered up her arm like electricity.

She peeked through the clear cellophane window on top, expecting to spy swirled icing, sugary roses, and
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MIRA
—so it took her aback when instead she saw something much simpler. “Cheesecake,” she said, lifting her gaze back to Rogan.

“Of course,” he said. “I remember what you like, Mira.”

Oh Lord. The words melted all through her because they instantly had her thinking about so much more than dessert preferences. And his dark eyes said he was thinking about more than cheesecake, too. His look locked on hers, so intense that after a few seconds she felt forced to glance elsewhere. But her breasts ached and heat rushed to the spot between her thighs.

And glancing away didn’t change the truth. She loved Ethan, but she remained deeply attracted to Rogan. Had Ethan bargained on that? Had he really thought through that aspect of this little arrangement? Had he realized that by involving her ex-boyfriend he might be stirring up old feelings inside her, old responses that suddenly felt way stronger than when she suffered them from a distance, across a softball field?

She let out a breath. So much to think through. Her attraction to Rogan should make this easy. But … to be with two men for whom she’d experienced the deepest sort of emotions—that might be harder. Because she wasn’t supposed to feel those kinds of emotions for Rogan—but she feared already that being intimate with him might bring them all rushing back. And maybe Ethan knew all that—maybe it was a testament to his love for her that he would risk that, or that he would have enough faith in their relationship to think it wouldn’t matter. But what if he
didn’t
know all that? What if he’d forgotten she’d once been completely wrapped up in the other man he wanted to share her with?

Thankfully, Ethan and Rogan had started making small talk now about Rogan’s drive up, and the bakery where he’d gotten the cheesecake. Which felt … almost normal. Almost.

“I’ll, um, just go stick this in the fridge,” Mira finally said, actually glad to escape the two of them. In one sense that seemed odd to her, but at the moment she might feel a little safer alone. So she started to walk away, heading for the cabin’s front porch.

“And Mira,” Rogan said, causing her to stop in her tracks, look over her shoulder. “Happy birthday.”

And God, even just that—two very simple words, spoken in his deep, slightly rough voice—made her nether regions tremble. For some reason, she found herself answering with the same reply that she kept pointing out to Ethan. “My birthday isn’t until tomorrow.”

“I know, honey,” he told her. “But I figure we’ll be celebrating it all weekend long—starting tonight.”

Chapter 3

I
t was to Mira’s great relief and surprise when, after that, things actually started feeling kind of normal.
Truly, honestly
normal. As if she and Ethan were the same couple they’d always been and they were just hanging out with a friend.

Of course, there was no denying the weirdness involved in the way the cabin was laid out. It was a cute but overly simple place—basically one large room divided into areas, like a studio apartment. Which meant it came with one bed, queen size, its headboard pushed against a wall not far from the front door. Fortunately, it also held a couch that unfolded to make a second bed, but the weird part was that even if she put on the brakes regarding the whole ménage à trois thing, the three of them would still be sleeping in the same room. And she hadn’t brought much in the way of pajamas, having planned to sleep only in a cami and panties like she usually did at home.

However, Rogan had brought along vodka and orange juice, remembering as well that she liked screwdrivers. He’d mixed up a pitcher of them by the time the sun set, and that was helping her begin to forget about the weirdness. Or to ignore it or something. Because if Ethan and Rogan could act so easygoing about this, so could she.

Now they sat around the small kitchen table, drinking and nibbling on chips, pretzels, and some brownies she’d made for the trip. Music played on the boom box Ethan had brought. And a deck of cards sat untouched near the open container of brownies—so far no one had dealt any, probably because conversation was keeping them well enough occupied.

“Still keeping your nose clean, Rogan?” her boyfriend asked her ex across the table.

Rogan cracked a small smile, and as she glanced back and forth between them, Mira realized for the first time ever the basic physical traits the two men shared. Thick, dark hair, enough muscles to be firm and sexy without looking like overgrown bodybuilders, and that olive skin that harked back to the Mediterranean. Anyone asked to describe them would say they looked similar. Rogan’s shoulders were broader—he was a bigger, slightly taller guy coming in at six-foot-three compared to Ethan’s six-foot-one—and maybe Rogan’s features were slightly more pronounced. But apparently she had a thing for tall, dark, and handsome and had never even recognized it until right now.

“Tryin’,” Rogan answered, but the grin implied he might not be completely succeeding. Rogan had garnered a reputation among his Hostage Ops Team friends for skirting the fine lines of cop decorum after a ruckus in Grand Rapids that had involved him roughing up a belligerent speeder. He’d always claimed the other guy threw a punch his way first, and Mira believed him, but she knew not everyone did. And she also knew he’d been in more than a few bar fights while off-duty in his youth, as well. But she thought his attitude now, as always, provided evidence enough that he didn’t mind being seen as one of the bad boys of the group.

“To tell you the truth,” Ethan said as he tipped a beer bottle to his mouth, leaving the screwdrivers to the other two, “I’m surprised you’ve lasted this long in calm little Charlevoix. What’s it been? Like six or seven years now?”

“About six,” Rogan replied. Which sounded right to Mira. She and Rogan had gotten together soon after his arrival and had been a couple for over a year. Then she’d started dating Ethan around six months after their breakup.

She decided to chime in now, too. “Yeah, I keep waiting to hear you’re leaving for some big, exciting city, going where there’s more action.”

At this, Rogan simply shrugged and cast a glance her way. “Oh, you can find action pretty much anywhere if you’re in the right place at the right time.”

And heat blossomed in her cheeks. Because his eyes told her he was talking about now, this weekend.
Action.
Was her blush as obvious to him in the low lighting as it felt to her? But then, maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe he could read it all in her eyes. The acknowledgment that he’d been invited here for sex—really naughty, dirty sex. Her trepidation about it all. And her … wanton desire.

“Still,” she said, “I always remember how … pumped up you’d get telling me how much you enjoyed the hostage ops training you guys did together. And I always thought you seemed … cut out for a bigger place where you could really put those skills to use.” It seemed easier to stay on the subject of his work than on what was supposed to happen this weekend.

Yet he just shrugged. “I got to a few times down in Grand Rapids,” he reminded her.